Last Call
by ohmytheon
Summary: In order to bust a prostitution ring, the team goes undercover, but Riza feels like she got the raw end of the deal since she's the one stuck slinging drinks and getting hit on by assholes. And the way Roy is looking at her is not helping matters.


**Author's Notes:** I had a lot of fun writing this, even though I get wary when it comes to writing any action. To all the girls working in the service industry, I am so sorry.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

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 **Last Call**

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Riza tapped her foot impatiently as she stood at the mouth of an alley outside of a swanky club and thought not for the first time, I'm going to kill that man. Future goals be damned, she was going to murder Roy Mustang.

It wasn't just the outfit that she'd been forced to wear or the fact that she'd had to wear it a total of six times. It wasn't the fact that her new "boss" kept making a lot of comments that weren't the least bit subtle about her "moving up" in the business. It wasn't the smug grin from Rebecca, who had somehow managed to get the surveillance job that Riza had wanted because "pregnant women aren't as attractive", or Havoc's waggling eyebrows from behind the bar every time she picked up a drink from him. It wasn't the way Fuery's face went bright red every time he saw her in her new "uniform" or the exaggerated lewd behavior from Breda as he flashed money in the air.

No, what really got under Riza's skin was the way Roy's dark eyes seemed to find her no matter where she was. She couldn't stand the way he looked at her with such open lust. It was part of the job. He couldn't look at her like she was his adjutant or a lamp in the corner of the room. He had to play his part of the attracted customer wanting more than just a bourbon on the rocks. But he wasn't playing at anything. She saw the way he looked at her, like she was the most desirable thing in the world, and he wanted her. Not in that he wanted to flirt or play with her for an hour, but in that he wanted to take her back to his place and explore every inch of her skin with his eyes, hands, and lips.

It was enough to feel so hot under the collar that she could barely breathe whenever she caught his eyes. She felt herself squirming even as she walked, gripping the tray in her hands tighter, and almost blushing as she tried to speak to her customers. To be honest, she couldn't tell if she wanted him to stop or for him to come up from behind her and take her away from her and do all the things that damn gaze of his promised.

She was going to kill him.

"I'll take another old fashioned," the light-haired man at the table told her. He was moderately attractive, but she could tell that he'd put a lot of effort into looking like he hadn't put a lot of effort into his looks. It didn't come off nearly as well as it did with Roy, whose entire attractiveness seemed an afterthought, like he didn't need to try at all. The man smirked at her as he gave her a very obvious lookover. "And a little something else on the side for the right price."

Riza smiled thinly, mentally disassembling and reassembling her gun to calm herself down. "Only if you're not drinking well bourbon. I'm not attracted to cheapskates."

He and his friends laughed. They finished their drink order and she wove her way through the crowd to the bar to give it to Havoc. He looked nice in his swanky-looking outfit, black slacks with a deep purple button up shirt loose at the top and a black suit jacket rolled up three-quarters of the way. She would've rather worn his clothes than what she was stuck with now. The skirt was far too short, to the point where she feared bending over in the slightest, and the shirt hugged her in a way that made her breasts perk up like a twenty year-old's. It had been a struggle to convince the owner to allow her to wear something that covered up her back, but she had been adamant. In the end, the asshole had decided that her "tits were worth it".

How she'd managed to not shoot the guy was a miracle. Even Roy had struggled to refrain from doing anything about the comments directed towards her, though she did not down that he would find a way to get back at the man after the mission was complete.

"Any luck so far?" Havoc asked as he began to make her drinks.

Riza huffed as she leaned against the bar. "Is the blonde guy at table twenty-three still looking at me?"

"About as closely as your favorite customer is," Havoc responded, a hint too cheekily for her taste.

Her "favorite customer", of course, was Roy. He'd started coming here, sometimes with Breda, sometimes by himself, a week before she had been able to snag a job here. But it had become quickly apparent that she was his preferred cocktail waitress. A lot of guys did that with the cocktail girls here, not just the dancers. They focused on one, trying to wheedle a little more than just a drink from them. Half the time the girls ended up becoming dancers in the end - or something else that involved even less clothes, if the price was right for the owner of this lovely establishment.

After just six shifts and a handful of customers that seemed very much interested in her as more than just a waitress, her boss was already suggesting a new line of work for her, but they needed more than just a job offer to bag the idiot. It drove Riza mad. She pictured sweet, little Kelly, a girl ten years younger than her with no business working here, her jittery smile and scared eyes as she guided a man into a back room for a "private dance". Some men wanted "experience" though. Dancing wasn't just about a hot, young body. Riza wasn't the oldest one here, but she was clearly more dominant.

Glaring at Havoc, Riza ignored his teasing comment as she began to place the drinks on her tray. "He already made a proposition, though it could've just been a joke to make him look good with his friends. I'll see if I can catch his interest."

"Anson noticed the way the guy looked at you," Havoc added, referring to their mutual new boss. "He's keeping a very close eye on you."

"He loves new prospective ventures," Riza grumbled. She lifted the tray off the bar and put on the brightest smile she could muster. It was still fake as hell. "Let's smoke out a pimp and make me a prostitute."

Most of the men at the table were engrossed by the dancing half-naked women, the blonde-haired guy was waiting for her to return. He smirked real big, his eyes raking over her once more, and raised out a hand like he was inviting her to sit in his lap or pull her into a hug. She silently set the drinks down on the table, keeping to herself but letting her eyes flicker over to him every now and then.

"It isn't that busy of a night," the blonde guy said after he took a sip of his drink, that grin still on his face. "Why don't you sit down here with me and enjoy yourself for a little while, darling?"

Riza arched an eyebrow. "You gonna make it worth my while?"

The man actually laughed. "Only if you make it worth mine."

As Riza continued to semi-flirt with the man, she noticed two people watching her: one) her new boss, Anson, and two) her actual boss, Roy. The difference was that one of them looked pleased while the other looked fit to murder. When Riza saw a hand raise briefly in the air, she pulled away from the guy, leaving him to pout and sigh in mock-sadness, and started towards her favorite customer. A hard slap to her butt made her freeze and tense up, the guys behind her laughing, but she tossed him a saucy look over her shoulder and kept on walking. Deep breaths. She couldn't shoot everyone in this place tonight.

Meanwhile, Roy appeared as cool as a cucumber, leaning back in his seat with an ankle propped up on a knee as he swirled an ice cube around in an empty rock glass, but one look into his eyes and she could tell that he was anything but. He looked fit to burn the club down right now. His dark eyes were locked on her, indignation and, yes, desire still in them. "And here I thought I was the only one that got your affections."

They were trying to manipulate the club owner into pushing Riza into the fold of his underground operations. If the owner got the idea that Riza might be able to be pressured into it or that a customer, Roy for example, was willing to pay, then he'd make a move. The guy was quick to leap onto money scoring opportunities. And right now, he was witnessing two potential new clients and a new employee. It should be too hard for him to resist. Unfortunately, it was also looking like it might be too difficult for Roy to resist blowing up. She had to keep him cool, which was difficult when she too felt like she was at the stack of dynamite ready to explode.

Not to mention that Havoc and Rebecca had been giggling relentlessly for the past few days. Riza was not amused by their antics.

Riza tossed her head so that her hair fell back over her shoulder. "You can't expect me to only serve you. How else am I supposed to get paid?"

"I could think of a few ways," Roy replied, his voice far too rough with desire. He was playing a role. He was playing a part. But it still nearly sent a shiver down her spine and she wanted to curse him for it.

Plucking the glass out of his hands, Riza told him, "I'm not certain you've got pockets deep enough."

He flashed her a grin, not the lopsided one that she was so fond of, but the charming one that seemed to melt most women and turn them into bumbling, blushing messes. To be honest, she liked his true grin more, but this one was for show. It the was type of grin that said he didn't need money to convince her to join him for a tumble in his bed. (And he didn't.)

Without warning and without saying anything in response, Roy snatched her wrist and pulled on her so that she stumbled towards him. Sliding another hand under her, he was able to maneuver her into sitting in his lap instead of falling on top of him. Just by picking her up slightly, it made her look almost graceful, like it had been a part of her plan all along. But her eyes widened in surprise and she gasped just a little too loudly as she plopped down on him for it to be planned. For heaven's sake, she was practically - no, she _was_ straddling him, her legs on either side of him and her already short skirt riding up even further. There was very little separating them right now. It wasn't just unseemly; it was downright provocative and lewd and she was going to kill him for this.

His grin took a more wicked turn as an amused glint appeared in his eyes. With one hand resting on the small of her back, Roy slid another hand up her bare arm, goosebumps appearing on her skin in the wake of his touch, until his hand came to stop behind her neck and gently pushed her down towards him. Riza could barely manage to sit still; some part of her, some very involuntary but strong part, felt the urge to grind down against him. She had to clench her hands tightly to stop from touching him back.

Once his mouth was at her ear, he spoke in little more than a whisper, "That catch the asshole's attention?"

"Which one?" Riza murmured in response, trying not to think about how hot his breath was against her ear.

Roy pressed his hand against the small of her back, urging her closer to him almost possessively. "Both, I suppose." He did not sound pleased.

Pulling away from him to toss her hair back again, Riza took the moment to glance around the room in a way that suggested she was worried about her boss catching her and getting in trouble even though she knew that he wouldn't react in such a way. She spotted the targets quickly and then leaned back down so that her face was only inches away from Roy's. The smell of his cologne almost overwhelmed her, even though he was careful about not overdoing it, and then the faint traces of watered down bourbon that she would've liked to taste for herself. No, focus, she had to focus.

"Anson looks like a kid on Christmas morning," Riza informed him. "My admirirer for the night looks like someone took his favorite toy."

Roy grumbled "favorite toy" under his breath as he moved his hand away from behind her neck, placing it on her thigh instead, dangerously high up beyond the point of inappropriate. She kept her breathing steady, relying on her years of training as a sniper. But then his fingers began to tap upwards against her skin and he fingered the hem of her skirt. She gripped the back of his chair tightly with one hand to keep herself from moving as she continued to hold onto his glass with the other, but her eyes were locked onto his face. He looked rather thoughtful, like he was unaware of what he was doing.

"Sir," Riza gritted out.

"Hm?" Roy's eyes flickered to hers as he moved underneath her into a more comfortable position.

Riza tried not to, but she blushed deeply. There really was no way of hiding anything right now. He wanted her right now and it was not just for show.

Damn him. Damn him to hell and back. If he thought that she was going to let him get away with this, then he had another thing coming. She knew exactly how to torture him and started thinking of all the ways. Not just keeping on top of him the second he tried to slack at work or cleaning her service weapons after he'd done something irritating, but much worse things. Like taking a shower right before he snuck over for a late dinner and casually walking around in her underwear but then always being just a few inches out of his reach and only giving him a chaste kiss before he left in the middle of the night. That sort of torture.

She wiggled out of his grasp to get off his lap, just enough to cause him to hiss through his teeth, and stood up straight in front of him, casually fixing her skirt and smiling smugly at him. "I'll get you another drink until you have something better to offer me." And then she went back to the bar where Havoc was polishing a glass and close to laughing.

"You're a cruel monster," Havoc told her as he poured another bourbon, "torturing customers like that."

"Only if they deserve it," Riza responded primly.

Havoc snorted. "You got your other target all worked up. Anson's talking with him now."

Riza rolled her eyes. Some people were so easy to manipulate that it almost felt unfair. She took the drink from Havoc, heading to drop it off at Roy's table, when Anson came out of nowhere and gripped her by the elbow a little tighter than she liked. In fact, she would've preferred if he hadn't touched her at all, but the man had an awful habit of ignoring every woman's personal space, grabbing and touching them like he owned them. It was a powerplay. Every time he grabbed a woman, it was like he was saying, _"Don't forget; you're mine."_ Well, she most certainly wasn't his.

"Drop that off quickly and meet me in my office," Anson told her, his face far too close to hers.

"Am I in trouble?" Riza asked.

Anson flashed her a quick grin. "Not in trouble at all, my dear. You're doing wonderful. I'd actually like to talk about a promotion."

"Already?" Riza tilted her head curiously. "I've only been here two weeks."

"Some women have it, some girls don't," Anson told her. He chuckled. How he was able to make a chuckle sound so greasy was beyond her. "I doubt you'll need training, but I assure you, the job pays very well, much better than living off tips."

He pat her on the butt in a little _tap tap_ motion, not like the smack from the blonde-haired customer, and then slipped through crowd towards his office in the back. She could not wait to put that man in handcuffs and throw him in the back of a car. She would probably have to make sure Roy didn't put on his ignition gloves, but a part of her didn't want to stop him.

After making her way back towards Roy, Riza set his glass down on his little table and asked, "Would you like to settle your tab?"

Roy gazed at her and then nodded his head. It was a coded sentence, telling Roy that Anson was finally prepping to bring her in on his side business. Tab meant the next stage of the mission was a go and that she was potentially in. Every other night, she asked if he wanted another drink and he declined. She swept away from him, going to the table where the blonde-haired guy was watching her so that she could pick up some empty glasses and return them to the bar.

As she did so, the man wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close to him so that she was standing in between his legs. "Now how come you won't sit with me, but you let that other guy manhandle you?"

"He tips well," Riza told him. She put a finger under his chin and smiled. "And you haven't yet."

"I can do more than tip well." At least he hadn't made a "just the tip" joke. She'd heard that one enough times in the past six shifts to last her three lifetimes.

"I like a man that can put his money where his mouth is."

Something resembling more of a sneer than a grin appeared on the man's face. "I'd prefer to put my mouth in other places."

Once more, Riza had to resist the urge to suckerpunch this guy in the face and also knee him in the dick. She hoped that Anson was ready to crack open the secrets to his prostitution ring because she could not handle much more of this. Everyone had their limits and Riza realized that she'd reached hers. She promised herself that she would tip extra from now on because if any girl in the service industry had to deal with this just once it was one time too many and they deserved better.

Peeling out of his grasp, Riza returned the glasses to the bar, nodded to Havoc, and then walked into the back where Anson's office was located. Anson was sitting behind his desk when she stepped inside, already wearing the smile that he thought was charming but she found made him look like he was cringing. She sat down across from him, holding her hands almost primly in her lap, and stayed quiet as he spoke.

Her meeting with him went as expected. Sure, she was making good money, but he thought that she could make more and he really wanted to help her and he had just the way to do that. She played wary and he did what he could to placate her. This would be easy money and quick too and, as long as she worked under him, he would keep her safe as well. There was so much potential in her, and it would be a shame to let such beauty go to waste. Riza had to fight the urge to roll her eyes half the time and punch him in the face the other half. The man was a sleeze. But a poor girl in desperate need of money, eager to please, and unused to such attention could easily fall victim to the man's routine.

She could not wait to take this guy down.

"But how does this get started?" Riza asked. "It's not like I can just go up to a customer, take their drink orders, and ask if they'd like a handjob as well."

Anson laughed. "So forward! I like that. Most of the girls here are so jittery at first, but you, no, you're a woman. You can take charge. Men will pay for that." He clasped his hands together on top of his desk and leaned forward, actual excitement in his eyes. He didn't see a woman when he looked at her; he saw something that he could use to make money. "I actually already have a client lined up for you, if you're interested."

"And if I'd said no?" She used the past tense on purpose. She hadn't said yes, but she was already implying that she had decided not to say no.

"Then he would have been left to use his charm to convince you to join him in bed and you would've been out of money if you agreed," Anson replied. He made it seem like it was a mistake. Why sleep with someone for free when you could do the same thing for money? What was that saying? If you're good at something, never do it for free? She couldn't remember. Roy probably knew. "The gentleman at table twenty-three, Mr. Carlyle, asked if you were available for the evening."

This time, Riza did roll her eyes. "He's made a few comments, but I thought he was just trying to put a show on for his friends."

"Men do love to show off," Anson agreed, "but this one is more than willing to do more than just talk. In fact, he'd probably prefer as little talk as possible."

Riza tapped her fingers on the armrest of the chair. "So if I agree, then what?"

"Typically, the transactions will be made through me," Anson explained. "If someone wants to pay for your private services" - oh, what a technical term - "then they can ask to see me if you are available for the night. Only one client per night, so as to not exhaust or hurt you, and we keep things safe. After the deal is made - and money is always upfront so no one is stiffed - you would go up to the table like normal and tell them that a private dance was given to them on the house. We have a few rooms in the back just for these special rendezvous."

"What if I don't want to have sex with them?" Riza asked. Anson never used the term "sex". It was a good tactic, but she needed him to be more specific. Right now, it almost sounded like he really was just giving away free lapdances, which were perfectly legal, to customers that brought in good business.

"Well, it's your job," Anson replied, smiling at her like a shark. "You can't just not work your job one day because you don't feel like it."

Riza stared at him hard. "You have a very multi-faceted business: alcohol, girls, and sex."

"They tell you that if you work with something that you love then it's not working at all," Anson said, "and those are my three favorite things." He stood up and walked around his desk so that he could lean against the front of it and look down at her. He had the power; he had the control. "So what do you say? Carlyle is ready to pay. I'm honestly surprised he jumped the gun first. I could've sworn that Mr. Kingsley was interested. He's invested a lot of his focus on you."

"Kingsley" was the name that Roy was going by. After coming here a few times before Riza and Havoc had been able to infiltrate it, Roy had gotten on friendly terms with Anson, to the point where the club owner bought him a round of drinks here and there. He had encouraged Riza to service him when he had noticed that Roy favored her, most likely with the hope that Roy would offer to pay for Riza's "private services". That would've been easier and much more preferable, but they needed to catch Anson in the legitimate act of trying to sell sex to someone that wasn't in on the undercover mission. Carlyle, in a sense, was a victim.

Riza did not feel any pity for him.

"I suppose he thinks he can still win me over with his charm and not his money," Riza said.

"And what will win you over?"

"Well, charm doesn't pay the bills," Riza told him, shrugging her shoulders.

"That it doesn't." Anson paused and focused on her. "So, are you in?"

"Selling sex on the side?"

Anson gave her that bland, salesman smile again. "Well, I wouldn't put it that way…"

Folding her arms across her chest, Riza frowned. "That's what it is, isn't it? You're not just a businessman and I'm not just the merchandise you're selling." And she was not going to give in until she got what she wanted. He may have been trying to sell her on this, but she was the one driving a hard bargain right now. Roy would've been going out of his mind right about now. She was very thankful that this conversation was being held in private and that only she, Fuery, and Rebecca were able to hear it through the recording and communication devices. "I don't like guys that beat around the bush. It's unattractive."

Most people didn't like being backed into a corner. Anson was no different. He held up his hands in defeat. "If you want to be crude about it, then yes, I'm selling sex. I'm a pimp, though that term is so…cringe-worthy. Men pay me a lot of money so that they can buy a warm body for a few hours, but the girls get something out of this as well. Why give something away for free?"

"How many other girls are working for you?"

"Only eleven," Anson told her. Only. Like it was nothing. "I'm still running a small business here, not a corporation, and I like to keep things under the radar." He winked at her. "Don't worry; there will still be plenty of demand and clients for you. Innocence fades quickly in this line of work, but experience is priceless. You could make enough money in a year to float you through retirement just by giving blowjobs alone."

Riza stood up and held out her hand. "I like the sound of that. You've got a deal."

Anson took her hand, but instead of shaking it, he pulled her close so that he could kiss her on both cheeks. His cologne was overwhelming and made her nose itch. But he wanted her close, needed her to know that he was still in control of her. He wasn't used to being talked to like this. Most of these conversations probably ended a lot quicker and with less fight, but she had needed him to talk. Words often dug graves for people.

"Prepare to make a lot of money," Anson told her. "You get on back to work and I'll get everything set up. We'll use the third room. Amanda and Kelly have clients in rooms one and two."

Grateful to leave the office, Riza stepped out and immediately assessed the area. Havoc was making a drink and talking to another cocktail waitress, one of the eleven girls that was working as a prostitute on the side. When they connected eyes, she nodded her head and she noted the worry leaving his eyes. She had been in that office for a long time. If anything were to happen, Havoc was ready to bust in to interrupt, either with an excuse or a gun in hand depending on the situation.

Noting Carlyle's eyes on her, like a predator would gaze at their prey, Riza printed out a ticket and walked over to Roy's table. She did not look back at Carlyle once. She wanted to keep him waiting. Besides, she'd already gotten what she needed from him. He was just going to have to settle for going home alone tonight. She handed Roy the ticket. "Your tab."

Setting his empty glass down, Roy stood up and pulled out his wallet. Stepping close to her, he wrapped one arm around her waist and pressed some cash in her other hand. His hold felt protective, safe, and heated. It told everyone in the room that she was his. "What time do you get off work?"

Riza smiled. "My shift's over in fifteen minutes."

"That's quick," Roy replied, gazing at her with far too much heat in his eyes, "but that means we've got the entire night."

Despite the situation, despite the conversation she'd just had, despite the fact that they were in the middle of busting a prostitution ring, Riza still felt her heart skip a beat. Damnit, the man was not just playing the part. For a moment, she wanted to believe that they could go home together after this. She pictured getting in the shower to wash away all the grime she felt, Roy stepping in the shower behind her and wrapping his arms around her, and him making her forget about this entire evening. She couldn't help but think of his lips on her skin, his hands touching her, guiding her out of the shower and into the bed, exhausting her so thoroughly that her mind would be able to rest.

Feeling more than a tad bit uncomfortable after those dangerous thoughts, Riza forced herself to back away from him. It wasn't just that he wanted her; it was that she wanted him. But there was a mission to be completed and she was a professional first and foremost. Stress relief could come later.

"I should take my friend home first," Roy said, referring to Breda, who was standing at the edge of the stage with a group of guys. He was acting a lot more drunk than he actually was, having taken to drinking water in place of vodka tonics all night.

"I need to tip out the bartender before I leave anyways," Riza added. Havoc would be quite happy to quit his bartending job in fashion. As good as he was at making drinks, Rebecca had not been too fond of the idea of her husband being around attractive, mostly naked women all night while she was pregnant, even if he did tell her every day that she was the most beautiful woman on the planet.

It was time to get into position. Riza was more than ready to take down this asshole - and get out of these ridiculous clothes. Roy grinned at her, a little more lopsided this time, a lot more like him, and she felt herself relaxing. She loved that smile of his. Yes, they were back to being themselves. The time for playing was over. Roy winked at her. For now, at least.


End file.
